


shades

by niamosaur



Series: inky suite [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:58:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niamosaur/pseuds/niamosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And he knows Liam isn't like that, just ditching on him without being completely, utterly honest with his reasons. Or maybe Niall just trusts him too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shades

**Author's Note:**

> This is, uhm, pretty boring. okay, a LOT boring. I tried a new writing style because wth and it was fun at first but turned out pretty badly.

Niall never really understood it, why Liam would choose him of all people. Okay, sure, he can look good at the best of times (which are rare) but to him it doesn't feel natural. It isn't natural. Because he actually needs to exert effort on wearing those shades and ripped jeans and cut-off flannels, his supras admittedly a little too tight on the bone jutting out at his ankle, his tanktops uncomfortable and itchy around his shoulders. He isn't that. He's blond hair and goofy smile and snorty laugh and coffee at 4 o'clock in the morning because his shift starts at five. He's ugly loose sweatshirts in the middle of the day and plaid gray boxers at night and seven marshmallows on hot chocolate during winter. He's ugly sobs and guitar strings and calloused fingertips. 

Somestimes he thinks maybe Liam's in love with his idea of him. The false him. The one with the shades and the smug smirk and the quiff. Because sometimes he can't help but feel a little rejected and down in his loose gray sweatpants and pudgy stomach when Liam excuses himself in the middle of a snog because his mother is calling, or his boss needs to have him finish paperwork or whatever.

And he knows Liam isn't like that, just ditching on Niall without being completely, utterly honest with his reasons. Or maybe Niall just trusts him too much. 

Liam can have anybody he wants, really. His adorable brown eyes and thick, perfectly lined brows and this intense necessity of his to apologize whenever he feels he's done something wrong can win anybody over. Surely. Hands down. Liam is handsome and pefect, and sometimes it's like Niall's out of his league when he looks at pictures of them standing side by side. 

Why him? 

He could have had Zayn, really, his ex-boyfriend. He's a model and admittedly he has the jaw models wiould die for, his nose all pointy and his eyes sultry. He walks with ease like he know exactly who he is and who he's not and Niall can never achieve that kind of confidence, of perfection. 

Why would he choose him? 

Sometimes, though immaturely so, he thinks he's just some sort of charity case for Liam. Like maybe Liam's just trying to help him stand up on his feet and then would break up with him once he figures he can handle the world on his own. These times are mostly when they're cuddled up on the couch with the telly on and pizza boxes stacked high like the Leaning Tower of Rome or whatever and he's on top of Liam, the brunet's arms wrapped securely around his waist in three day-old sweatpants and band tees, and Niall wonders why him? How did he deserve this? Why why why. 

His nose is a little too large on his face, ears a little too curved at the shell and his eyes a little too twitchy when he laughs. His tummy is still a slight swell of fat, with just the ghost-y lines of supposed abs, despite his attempts to flatten them and give them even just the lightest depth of muscles (fifteen curls at dawn and ten at night while Liam is asleep). He sucks his stomach in and runs rough fingers at the dip, up his rather undefined chest. Feels the unsatisfactory jut of his ribs and the flat line at the middle of his chest where the dip would've been if his pecs were a little more pronounced. 

The doorknob to the bathroom opens, startles Niall. He whirs around and sees Liam poke his wet head out, brown fringe stuck to his forehead. "Hey, babe," he says, a small smile on his lips as he fully steps out the bathroom in a loosely-tucked towel and moves over behind his boyfriend, wrapping arms around his bare stomach. He looks at Niall through the mirror, and maybe the crease between his brows is carved too deeply or maybe the insecurities in his eyes are pronounced too loudly because Liam notices. Or maybe he's just really good at noticing all things Niall. "I thought you were going to sleep, babe. You okay?" 

Niall nods, pressing himself further into Liam's chest. Cool beads of water fall on his neck and cheeks from Liam's damp hair. "Yeah. I'm okay."

"You sure?" Liam presses, dropping a kiss at the back of his neck where the balls of his spine jut out, and he shudders. Immediately knows Liam is up to him and won't let go of the subject until he tells him what's bothering him. Because he's Liam like that. Always seeing past Niall's walls. "You can tell me, babe. Anything. You know that, right?" he murmurs. "Absolutely anything." 

Niall shrugs. "I don't know, really," because he doesn't, truthfully. Liam haunches over and digs his chin into the space where Niall's shoulder and neck meet, the pressure alleviating. Through the mirror Niall knows this look: tell-me-what's-wrong-and-I'll-help-you. And again this wave of surrealness washes over him and drowns him knee-deep, like his kneecaps have been filled with air. "It's just that, sometimes I feel like, you know..." He doesn't. "Just, why me, Liam? Why did you choose me?" 

Liam frowns at this, tightening his hold around Niall's waist so there's not even a sheet of air (or fabric) that's separating them. "What do you mean? Of course I chose you. Who else would I choose?" 

Niall snorts. "Your model ex-boyfriend and ex-girlfriend and, oh I don't know, practically anybody you want?" He sighs, looking at their reflection through the smooth, body-length sheet of glass that stands beside their bed. The contrast is so painfully clear, really: Liam and Niall. Opposites. Perfect and flawed. A Greek god and, well, a mortal. And Niall would run through a long list of stark comparisons but he's already boring and bland as he is right now, with his flaws laid out and highlighted by how angelic Liam looks compared to him, and he really doesn't want to bore Liam by thinking too much into this. Maybe tonight he'll continue.

"I have nothing to offer you, Liam," he says, finally, when the silence stretches over them. "Why me? Why can't you have picked somebody you used to date because I'm pretty sure they'd outrank me no matter who you pick." 

There's a pause. "Niall, look at me," Liam says. Since Liam doesn't unlock his arms around him he guesses he wants to look at him through the mirror. So he does. And he notices how Liam's eyes are intent, focused, like he wants this to work. Niall doesn't know exactly what he wants to work, but he doesn't mind. Yeah. He probably trusts Liam a little too much. "Repeat after me, okay, babe?" he whispers into his ear, pressing a kiss there. 

"Why?" 

"Just do it, babe. Ready?"

"Uh..." Niall hangs on the syllable, like he's about to say no, but then nods. "Okay." 

Liam cracks a smile. "I, Niall James Horan..." 

"I, Niall James Horan?" It ends up as a question because he isn't sure if he's interrupting Liam. Or where this is going. 

"No. You've got to be firm on this, babe. Firm." 

Niall breathes. Molding his words as hard and as confidently as he could. For Liam. "I, Niall James Horan." 

"Good, okay." Liam's smile carves deeper into his cheeks. "Of Mullingar, Ireland." 

"Of Mullingar, Ireland." 

"Don't give a fuck of what people think of me." 

Niall laughs a little. "Don't give a fuck of what people think of me."

"My insecurities are brave to have challenged me. I can overpower them because I'm strong, and amazing, and I have the hottest boyfriend out there," this gets Liam an elbow to the stomach, which he responds to with a breathless laugh that brushes across Niall's ear and makes his insides tingle, "who loves him so, so much and will do anything in his power to protect him." He whispers the last part, and Niall's stomach feels like it's churning in a feathery, lighweight void. His breath stutters. His heart drops into a pause and sets out into a wild, erratic pattern that has his adrenaline running: this is his favorite kind of high. 

"Uhh..." he whispers. "I-I kind of forgot what I was supposed to say." 

Liam laughs, into his hair this time. "I forgot, too. But I do know that you're beautiful. And I chose you because you're crazy in bed."

"Liam."

"I meant while you're sleeping," he laughs, his bare chest rumbling through Niall's back. "I chose you because you love playing the guitar before you work on your papers. Because you like curling up in the couch more than in bed when it's raining. Because you'd prefer watching Phineas and Ferb over good old porn. Because you don't care when I mess your hair up even if you've just finished fixing it up into a quiff. I like your ruffled hair better, by the way," he comments, drawing idle circles with his thumb on Niall's tummy and he doesn't know, does he? Doesn't know how his words and his actions and his eyes softly, fondly looking into Niall's through the glass are too much and it feels like he can't breathe, but like he can live like this, his airways clogged up by how much this boy behind him and around him and in front of him and literally everywhere in his mind is affecting him.

"I can go on forever, babe; I don't want to bore you. But let me just say I love everything you do and everything you are, every last bit from the way you curl your toes over mine while we're cuddling and the way you'll blink at me stupidly when I say a joke that you don't get. I love you so much, Niall." 

"I love you too." Niall feels like he's choking on the words, and he hopes he's got his message across because he really can't talk much right now. 

Liam nods, smiling, nipping playfully at the skin on Niall's neck. "I, Niall Horan," he whispers. 

Swallowing some, Niall nods because he gets it. He just doesn't know what but he does, as if something just clicked and something feels right. Perfect. "I, Niall Horan." His voice is like static. Hoarse. 

"Believe in myself and that I am enough, if not more, for what people expect me to be. If they don't think so they should fvck off." 

He grins, laughing some. "Believe in myself and that I am enough, if not more, for what people expect me to be. If they don't think so they should fvck off." 

"And that my boyfriend will murder whoever touches me, even if they so much as wink in my direction."

"Liam." 

Liam laughs.


End file.
